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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27098890">the slow appraisal of silent things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bat_and_Breakfast/pseuds/Bat_and_Breakfast'>Bat_and_Breakfast</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Berena - Fandom, Inspector Lynley Mysteries (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Loss (mentioned), Coming Out as Bisexual, Domestic Violence (Mentioned), F/F, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, finding love in an unexpected place, part of the Redgrave Russell Cinematic Multiverse (RRCMV), recovering from a lot of things</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 04:13:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,347</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27098890</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bat_and_Breakfast/pseuds/Bat_and_Breakfast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of her marriage, Helen calls Grace. She doesn’t really know why, can't say why she’s telling her about feeling trapped in her own home, about her need to flee the ruins of her relationship, certainly doesn’t expect Grace to suggest that Helen should come and stay at her house.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grace Finnegan/Helen Clyde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Redgrave Russell Cinematic Multiverse (RRCMV)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/gifts">ktlsyrtis</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Have a lovely day, ktlsyrtis. It's a treasure to have you as a friend.<br/> </p><p>To maybe fully understand this, one needs to know a few things about canon: This is a follow up story on “If Wishes were Horses” (S03 E4) of the Inspector Lynley tv series. Go watch it, if you haven’t seen it yet - I think it's certainly one of the better episodes. Grace Finnegan is played by Jemma Redgrave, but in this story she doesn’t shoot anyone. The Helen Lynley in this story is already played by Catherine Russell, who doesn’t leave Thomas Lynley until after the case is closed and she doesn’t leave him to go to her sister. Everything else that happened in the episode, also has happened in this story.</p><p>Did I steal the title almost completely from Patrick Rothfuss? I did and I’m an unapologetic thief, because I love it so much and found it quite fitting.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
Do you remember the way that you touched me before,<br/>
all the trembling sweetness I loved and adored?<br/>
Your face-saving promises whispered like prayers,<br/>
I don’t need them.<br/>
No, I don’t need them.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>	(Natalie Merchant - My Skin)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>At the end, the end of Tommy and her, Helen calls Grace. She can’t explain why, how it comes that she feels so connected to Grace, having only met her at the funeral and wake of her husband. They had talked for quite a while after Helen noticed the way Grace seemed to feel uncomfortable around her husband's ex-wife, Maureen, and took Grace aside to see if everything was alright. She found herself unusually fascinated by the other woman, the way she held herself, the way she spoke - seemingly insecure and unbreakable at the same time. It seemed as if Grace might actually have felt the same unexpected connection because, against all unwritten rules, they exchanged numbers, had messaged each other a few times, even talked to each other once, after the case was closed.</p><p>And now, after Helen starts to speak about feeling trapped in her own home due to the fact that she shares it with Tommy, about feeling more and more unwilling to reconnect with him, Grace just quietly suggests that she stay at her house. Argues that it's big enough to give both of them enough space if needed and that she actually wouldn’t mind some company other than her own thoughts, going round and round about things that happened to her in the silence of the house.</p><p>Helen tries to stop worrying about being a burden like Maureen was when Grace doesn’t stop insisting. Packs up her most vital things, clothes, laptop, work stuff, some books and mementos she can’t bear to leave behind and - almost on a whim - her old camera, before she temporarily moves in with Grace in an attempt to find a way back to herself and also to offer Grace some company and support. She leaves Tommy a letter, calls him before she leaves the house, but also waits for a moment when she knows that he can’t return to the house quickly enough to hold her back. She does not tell him where she’s going, stops answering his calls the moment the door to their house falls shut behind her. It might not have been fair to him, but by now Helen feels like she’s run all out of words, weighed down by the countless times she’s tried to talk to him.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe this is why their first days are quiet - both Grace and Helen easily transitioning into sharing a house, happy to spend their time together, but both of them also not yet in the mood to talk about what made them end up at this unexpected point in their lives. Grace spends a huge amount of her time in the garden, tending to her flowers, looking after the vegetable patch she finally created. Dermot had been strictly against one, didn't find it proper. Flowers, of course, he could get, lush English gardens, tended to by his lovely and respectable  stay-at-home wife. Vegetables were what the supermarkets were invented for, so starting to grow her own vegetables was the first act of defiance Grace showed after his death.</p><p>Helen just follows her around, starts to take pictures of the plants - never of Grace after her first attempt to do so. Grace had become so anxious about the camera that Helen kept it in her room for a few days. She tries to read, but can’t concentrate, tries to cook, but should have known better, she never was able to cook something edible that didn’t involve a microwavable ready meal. Her cooking attempt marks the first time she makes Grace laugh though, Helen standing in the middle of a messy kitchen, frowning at the remains of something that should have been simple stir fried vegetables, Grace entering the room, erupting into loud honking laughter as soon as she lays eyes on her.</p><p> </p><p>Time goes by and at one point they start to talk or, at least at the beginning, Helen does. She talks about Tommy, about him asking her to marry him again and again, until she finally said yes, about her never ending need for space, about their inability to deal with each other after the accident, him spending more and more time with work and her wandering around the house like a premature ghost, waiting for her time to finally haunt someone other than herself. She doesn’t mention the loss of her child though, feels like she might cause Grace more pain, might make her feel responsible. Grace knows, of course, but Helen remembers Tommy telling her about Grace’s reaction upon realising that her friend and former lover murdered Dermot and caused Helen’s accident, guesses that Grace feels guilty enough already, even though she isn’t guilty at all.</p><p>Slowly Grace joins in, starts to reveal bits of her life, talks about how she met Dermot, how she admired him, how hard she fell for him. She doesn’t talk for long or in a lot of detail, but she talks. About having an affair with Dermot, his stories about his loveless marriage, his sudden divorce, his proposal. Her utter joy at marrying him, the man she loved so much. Then she whispers about the first time he hit her, while Helen sits by her side in the slowly darkening living room, the both of them sharing a bottle of wine, shadows from the fire they lit playing tricks on their faces, the portrait of the very man Grace is talking about looming over them.</p><p>For now, Grace doesn’t talk about Tessa and Helen doesn’t ask.</p><p>Instead, Grace starts to talk about change one day, now that Dermot is gone. She has yet to change things in the house, has left everything like it was before. The bedroom and the living room are wearing her down though, both rooms spaces that evoke memories Grace would like to lay to rest, like she did Dermot.</p><p>Helen thinks it’s a good idea, a step towards a future that Grace can shape after her own liking. She offers to help, because that’s actually something she might be able to do, something she’s done before. Remembers her mother going around their house, talking to interior designers, forever changing things, adjusting them. Grace seems grateful, smiles at her, agrees when Helen suggests that they both take a look at the living room right after breakfast the next day. Helen feels hesitant to offer her help with the bedroom, hasn’t even set foot inside yet, although she’s been here for weeks.</p><p> </p><p>They both stand in front of Dermot Finnegan’s portrait dominating the room. He looks cold, condescending. Helen wonders why he would have chosen to be portrayed like this. It seems too accurate, too close to his real self, the one he so carefully hid from others. Grace takes a few steps away from it, away from Helen, turns her back to the painting. Helen turns away too, slowly taking in the whole room, noticing not for the first time the missing warmth, the lack of anything that looks like it might truly belong to Grace. Anything beside the ornaments that have been placed all over the room.</p><p>“What are your plans? Replacing the painting with something brighter, of course, I guess. New furniture? Maybe a bit more colour, plush cushions, more plants. You sure like gardening, some potted plants inside the house would be a lovely idea. I couldn’t keep a cactus alive, even if I tried. What about the ornaments? I noticed more of them in the kitchen and in the garden. They are yours, right? You probably want to keep them.” </p><p>Grace’s features seem to sharpen right in front of Helen’s eyes, the corners of her mouth turning down, lips pinched together, a coldness to her eyes that vanishes almost as soon as it appears, leaving tired lines behind on Grace’s face and pain welling up in her eyes.</p><p>“Dermot bought them. Gave me one, every time after he... “ Grace falls silent, but Helen hears the missing words as clearly as if Grace had spoken them out loud - <em>every time after he hit me</em>.</p><p>“The next day he’d apologize and bring me a gift.” Grace looks at the ornament next to her on the mantelpiece, strokes a finger along its surface.</p><p>Helen takes in the dozens of ornaments strewn around the room, thinks of the ones in other rooms, the ones outside. Bile rises up her throat, and for a moment she has to take hold of the sofa next to her to keep herself steady, feels like she has to scream. </p><p>She instinctively knows that an overly emotional reaction to this memorial of the violence Grace must have endured won’t be welcome, might make Grace take a step away from her, might even make her lose her trust in Helen. She inwardly squares her shoulders and does her best to keep her face and voice from showing the rage and horror she feels building up inside her.</p><p>“I guess you could always bring them out to the garden and smash them up with a shovel, if you want to get rid of them.”</p><p>Grace, fingers gliding over ornament after ornament within her reach, startles and turns to her, eyes wide and surprised.</p><p>“Don’t look at me like that! Keep them, if you want to, send them to charity or do a car boot sale, it really is up to you, but somehow I think smashing them up might feel liberating.”</p><p>Helen takes a step towards Grace, notices the fine signals of Grace bracing herself, a shoulder slightly turned towards Helen, a hand placed over her stomach, head turned down. She wants to scream again, not at Grace, but at Dermot, wants to throttle him, even after his death. She slowly sidesteps Grace instead, passes her by as if she hasn’t noticed her instinctive reaction at all, only turns back to her when she’s already at the door to the hallway, at a safe distance.</p><p>“How about a cup of tea?”</p><p>Grace's eyes jump between Helen and the ornament in her hand, before her gaze settles on Helen, her fingers losing their grip on the small statue, her posture softening, a shy smile lighting up her face a bit.</p><p>“I’d like that.”</p><p> </p><p>They settle down at the kitchen table, mugs in hand. They don’t speak, but their silence isn’t awkward, it just is - both of them running through things in their head. As if on cue, they both speak up at the same time.</p><p>“Look, I’m sorry I said you should smash-“</p><p>“Would you help me bring them out to-“</p><p>They both stop, Grace giving a short barking laugh and Helen laughing back at her with a wide smile on her face.</p><p>“You go first,” she says, nodding towards Grace.</p><p>“You don’t have to apologise, you know? Coming from you, it feels okay. I feel good with you,” Grace stops for a second, “with you suggesting things, I mean. It’s time for me to change things and maybe you’re right and it will be liberating. It’s certainly of no use to keep them around. So - would you help me take them out to the garden?”</p><p>There’s still an undertone of insecurity to Grace’s voice that makes Helen’s heart clench. She offers her hand to Grace, slowly moves it across the table, towards Grace, palm up.</p><p>Grace looks at it as if it’s the most unexpected thing, but loosens the grip on her mug, carefully laying her hand next to Helen’s for a moment, before she watches herself intertwine their fingers.</p><p>Grace’s fingers are cold, even after holding the mug, and thin, awfully thin, although there’s a certain strength to them. Helen wants to warm them, wants to cradle them close to her, wants to press a kiss to them.</p><p>She startles herself with that thought, can’t believe this crossed her mind. Looks up at Grace’s face, relieved to see her still watching their hands in rapt attention, sure that if Grace looked at Helen right now, the inappropriateness of her last thought would be written clearly all over her face.</p><p>She pushes the thought away, chalks it up to herself being tired, hurt, stressed and protective of Grace, who she feels so close to even after only such a short time of knowing her. It’s practically a miracle with Helen being far from easy to make friends with, at least not close ones. Food, drinks and a friendly chat she can manage just fine with almost everyone, she knows others think of her as charming, but the ordeal of a close friend, someone who would get to know her, really <em>know</em> her, never sat right with her, always made her pull back until now. Now she feels like she could open herself up to Grace like a book desperate to be read after spending a long time hidden on an unregarded shelf, gathering dust.</p><p>Of course she had been friends with Tommy long before they became lovers, before marriage and commitment and loss, but even with him she held parts of herself back. He never seemed to notice, and she never really cared, too used to going her own way, doing her own things to mind not fully baring her soul to him. Until the accident suddenly put a spotlight on their inability to truly talk to each other, to really connect on more than just a superficial day-to-day level. She fully realised this the moment she reached for the phone to call Grace, a virtual stranger compared to how long Helen and Tommy had known each other, but somehow the one person she wanted to talk to, wanted to cry with about the loss of her marriage and her child, wanted to hear how badly trapped Helen felt at that moment, how she longed to leave, without really knowing where to go. She couldn’t find it in her to talk about all of this with Tommy, especially not about the loss of their child, always aware of how conflicted he felt about becoming a father. Couldn’t bear to maybe realise that he might actually feel relieved somewhere in the darker parts of his mind.</p><p>A careful pressure on her fingers makes Helen become aware of the fact that she had drifted off into her thoughts, makes her come back to sitting at the kitchen table, still holding hands with Grace. Grace, who had set her mug down and covered Helen’s hand between both of hers. Her dark eyes are full of empathy and something Helen can’t decipher before Grace stops looking at her, her fringe partially covering her face again. Helen’s chest tightens and she feels like something is settling around them, can’t make sense of the tension she suddenly feels, nervous energy fluttering around her stomach. Grace seems to feel it too, seems to get restless in her chair, slowly starts to remove her hands with an apologetic look at Helen. She smiles back at her, willing herself to ignore everything but her wish to make Grace feel safe, supported and happy.</p><p>“No time like the present?” she asks, though she doesn’t move, leaves the decision completely to Grace, who looks up at her. Their eyes lock and Helen feels like she’s lost, but also found at the same time, everything deconstructing around them, leaving her in a surreal state of suspension, unable to stop looking into Grace’s eyes. Suddenly Grace blinks, breaking the moment by abruptly standing up, turning away from the table as if fleeing from something, but Helen can’t exactly say from what.</p><p>Grace turns back to her as suddenly as she’d turned away, her eyes shining with unfamiliar energy.</p><p>“How about we use the laundry baskets to bring them outside?”</p><p> </p><p>It takes them several trips through the house, both of them searching thoroughly, to not forget even one single small ornament. It’s a shock to see them all in one place, Helen feeling sick to her stomach, brimming with fury, ready to charge anyone ever trying to hurt Grace again.</p><p>Grace stands there, rooted to the spot, back ramrod straight, looking at the mounting evidence of her personal pain, her face a ghostly white mask. Helen doesn’t dare to touch her, fears that Grace might just shatter at the first brush of Helen’s hand against hers.</p><p>She goes to the garden shed instead, tries to keep Grace in her line of sight, comes back to her, carrying one of the bigger shovels. She stands beside Grace, hoping that she can feel Helen’s silent support, that she realises she’s no longer alone and trapped in her personal hell. She holds the shovel out to Grace, determined to wait as long as it might take for Grace to come to terms with all of this. After a while she can feel cold fingers brushing against hers, takes her chance to carefully squeeze one of them with her index finger. Grace lightly squeezes back, then takes the shovel from Helen’s hand.</p><p>“You can do this,” Helen assures Grace in a low voice, before taking a step back to give Grace more room without leaving her. She leans against one of the compost bins, watches Grace who has yet to move. Time trickles by, both women unmoving until Grace’s fingers slowly start to glide along the handle of the shovel, like she’s trying to memorise the texture of the wood. Her grip around the handle tightens, she lifts the shovel to take it in both hands. Weighs it, her face still unmoving, until she suddenly swings the blade against one of the bigger ornaments, which promptly bursts into pieces upon the impact of metal on pottery. Grace looks shocked, loses her grip on the shovel, which clatters to the ground. Her breathing starts to accelerate, her brow suddenly drenched in sweat. She turns towards Helen, her eyes wide open, mouth gaping in her attempt to breathe and Helen is glad that she stayed near her, glad that she has dealt with people having a panic attack before. Notices Grace starting to tremble, unsure if she should try to approach her or keep her distance to not distress Grace any further. Then Grace reaches out to her and Helen quickly steps up to her, takes her hand and pulls her into her arms, holds her tight against her own body, murmuring soothing words into Grace’s hair, drawing slow circles around her back. Slowly the sobbing and trembling subsides, but they still stay tightly embraced until Grace takes a small step back. One hand keeps holding onto Helen’s, while Grace wipes her face on the sleeve of her shirt. The lines on her face are pronounced, her eyes red rimmed, but there’s also a new glimmer of determination in them. She presses Helen’s hand once before she lets go, bending down to pick up the shovel once more.</p><p>“You might want to step back a bit,” she says, her eyes caring, “I don’t want you to get accidentally hurt.” They both stop at that phrase, both of them realising at the same time that Helen being accidentally hurt was what brought her here. Grace’s face darkens and with a smooth motion she turns around towards the ornaments, swings the shovel and hits several of them with a satisfying sound. This time she doesn’t let go of the shovel, doesn’t hesitate and even though Helen takes a step back, she clearly sees the rage and hurt on Grace’s face as she brings down the shovel again and again.</p><p>Sweat begins to form patches on Grace’s shirt, her breathing becoming a bit laboured, her arms swinging the shovel in hypnotic movements, her face almost peaceful by now. There’s still too many ornaments left, some completely intact, others partially fallen to pieces, while the ground is littered with more and more shards. Grace pauses, rams the shovel a bit into the ground, turns towards Helen while slightly leaning on the shovel for support. Her hair is plastered against her head, her cheeks burning, droplets of sweat running down her throat, vanishing between her neckline. Helen finds herself fascinated by them, follows their path with her eyes as long as she can, imagines them making their way between the valley of Grace’s breasts.</p><p>“Helen?” Grace’s voice brings her back from her thoughts, the curiosity in Grace’s eyes making her blush and fiddle with the hem of the soft jumper she’s wearing. Helen wonders what’s going on in her own mind, chides herself inwardly for being an inexplicable idiot when she should just support Grace.</p><p>“I’m sorry - I was away with the fairies, apparently.” She gives Grace an apologetic smile, relieved when Grace crookedly smiles back.</p><p>“It can’t be too fascinating to watch me smash pottery to pieces. Although it could be worse.” Helen raises an eyebrow at this, daring Grace to elaborate. “He could have gifted me silver, like with his first wife. Worth more, of course, but also decidedly harder to trash with a shovel. I might have had to build a melting bath and I bet it wouldn’t have felt as liberating as this does. You were right of course.”</p><p>Helen snorts, relieved to see Grace able to make a bit of light fun under given circumstances.</p><p>“I have an idea,” Grace continues, “how about you get yourself another shovel and help me?”</p><p>At first Helen demurs, feels like it’s certainly not her place to take an active part in this step of Grace’s way to recovery. Grace does not accept Helen’s refusal though, insists until Helen goes and picks up another shovel in the shed. Maybe Grace perceived the pent up rage in Helen better than Helen herself, because when Helen takes her place right next to her and deals a first blow to an ornament already partly destroyed, she’s startled by the red hot flash of fury rushing through her body, followed by smug satisfaction at seeing the ornament completely fallen to pieces. She turns to Grace, who simply nods at her, a small gesture that nevertheless makes Helen feel like she’s completely understood, before Grace lifts her own shovel and hits another ornament.</p><p>The next ornament Helen targets is one of the bigger ones. She imagines it as the head of Dermot Finnegan, gathers all her hate, and swings the shovel at it in a wide arc, not realising that she actually screams in fury until the moment the shovel hits and shards fly around, leaving her panting and leaning on the shovel, ears ringing. An anxious glance at Grace reassures Helen that she didn’t scare her, might have even encouraged her to stop her own silent approach to this, because Helen can hear a satisfied grunt leave Grace’s lips as the next ornament is hit by her shovel. They work side by side like this for quite some time, pieces of clay crunching beneath the soles of their shoes, fine dust collecting on their clothes.</p><p>Helen leaves the last piece to Grace, watches her poke around the shards until she lifts the shovel and lets the blade fall down onto the remaining ornament like a guillotine, splitting it in half. She remains standing in front of it, her fingers tightly gripping the handle of the shovel, her face seemingly emotionless, except her eyes jumping around with a haunted look to them, taking in the scale of destruction. Helen can see the first telltale signs of tears forming, carefully lays down her shovel, before stepping towards Grace to softly pry the handle from her hands. Grace doesn’t look at her, keeps staring at the ground, seems miles away from all of this. Helen takes her hand, brushes her thumb softly over Grace’s fingers, notices the fresh blisters. She lays the other shovel down next to hers, doesn’t let go of Grace and, after straightening up again, she intertwines both their hands in an attempt to anchor Grace. Notices the usual coldness to Grace’s hands, brushes her thumbs over her knuckles, carefully massages her fingers a bit between hers.</p><p>“Let me take care of you,” she whispers, her lowered voice an attempt to not frighten Grace by pulling her back into the present too quickly. All of a sudden Grace looks up at her, face tearstained, eyes dark and unfathomable, her gaze dropping from Helen’s eyes towards her mouth, while pulling her closer. Helen’s breath stops, her heart skips a beat, but she must have been imagining things, foolish woman she seems to have become lately, because Grace does of course not kiss her, but instead goes for a hug, burying her face into the crook of Helen’s neck. Helen tries her best to regain control over her racing heart, puts her arms around Grace’s thin body and holds her close.</p><p>They sweep up the remains of Grace’s past, deciding that it is for the best not to leave them in their sight any longer than strictly necessary. Grace looks more and more tired and withdrawn, her eyes dull, her face slack. Helen offers to warm her some soup, asks her if she should run her a bath, both of which Grace declines. They soon decide to retire to their rooms after that, Grace reassuring Helen that what she might need the most right now could actually be sleep. Helen still worries about her, but doesn’t question her decision. Right in front of her bedroom door, Grace takes Helen’s hand, pulls her into an embrace, whispers thanks to her, before she kisses Helen on the cheek and vanishes into her room.</p><p>For a moment Helen remains standing in front of the closed door, sure she can still feel the warmth of Grace’s lips on her skin, until she mentally shakes herself and makes her way to her own bedroom. But for the first time since she moved into Grace’s house, sleep doesn’t come easy. Helen’s mind keeps going back to her wish to kiss Grace’s fingers, to hold Grace, comfort her, make her laugh and feel happy. It also goes back to the moment in the garden, when Helen thought Grace might kiss her and - most serious of all - it goes back to the split second when Helen actually longed for Grace to kiss her. Sometime during the early morning hours she finally falls asleep, her mind weaving an unexpected blanket of blonde hair and deep brown eyes, soft lips and intertwined fingers, laughter and love.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks @ Wonko for editing this - your help is very much appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm genuinely delighted by all the lovely comments I had on the first chapter! Thanks to everyone who enjoyed reading this zoom-brewed idea of mine. I hope you'll also enjoy the second chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
I am short of breath<br/>
Standing next to you<br/>
I am out of my depth<br/>
At this altitude<br/>
</em>
</p><p>	(Sleeping at Last - Atlas: Heart)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next morning comes with regrets and pain. Regrets due to despising any kind of sport, any kind of fitness regime or work-out, well, almost any kind of work-out. There’s one kind Helen actually does like, but even that hasn’t taken place for a long time now, so it comes as no surprise that her body is hurting like hell. She just hopes that Grace, being used to working in the garden, feels better than she does. After taking a long, hot shower to maybe give her muscles a chance to relax and dressing in the most comfortable clothes she has, a knee-long soft jumper combined with leggings and equally soft knitted socks, Helen makes her way into the kitchen. </p><p>Grace is leaning against the counter, holding a mug of tea, looking out of the window, her expression relaxed. The sunlight emphases the colour of her hair, deepens the green of the shirt she’s wearing, and when she takes a sip from her mug, Helen wants to take a dozen pictures of her, wants to be able to hold on to this sight, her heart clenching, unexpected butterflies exploding in her stomach. She clears her throat, suddenly feels strange, standing in the door, enchanted by Grace.</p><p>Grace turns towards her, face lighting up, a smile on her lips, eyes wandering over Helen’s body. She coughs and takes another sip of her tea, unsuccessfully brushes her fringe aside, which promptly falls back into her face again.</p><p>“Good morning,” she says, placing the mug on the counter. “Would you like some tea?”</p><p>“Yes, please.” Helen feels unusually shy, almost awkward, which isn’t something she’s used to. Walks towards Grace, who busies herself with making another mug of tea. Places a hand on Grace’s shoulder, feels her tremble a bit.</p><p>“How are you doing?” she asks, concern colouring her voice, her thumb absentmindedly brushing along Grace’s shoulder blade.</p><p>“I’m fine.” Grace, tea in hand, turns towards her, comes unexpectedly close, almost nose to nose with Helen, who suddenly feels flustered, catches herself staring at Grace’s lips, heat rushing through her body. She blushes and looks aways, out of the window, shakes her head a bit and hopes that her hair will keep Grace from noticing the slightly reddish tone her skin probably has. Grace sets the mug down, steps behind her and places a hand on Helen’s back.</p><p>“How are you doing? How did you sleep? Was it all a bit much - you do seem a bit off, if I’m allowed to say so?”</p><p>“No, no - I’m fine. Just not fully awake yet, maybe - thanks for the tea.” Helen takes it and turns sideways, fully aware of the fact that she’s trying to avoid coming face to face with Grace again. She sits down at the kitchen table, suddenly aware of how empty it is without all the ornaments that stood upon it. Giving a sigh, she turns towards Grace who’s sitting down across from her, still frowning a bit, probably still worried about Helen.</p><p>“Are you really okay?” Grace asks and for a moment Helen thinks about what to tell her, because she’s not quite sure how she can phrase things, still unclear what is going on within her head. She takes a sip from her tea to buy herself some time, but before she can come to a decision her mobile starts to vibrate right next to her. She takes one look at the display and almost cancels the call, but a look at Grace’s face makes her take the easier way out of the situation and answer it.</p><p>“Hello Tommy,” she says, making an apologetic gesture towards Grace, who looks at her in astonishment, “well, yes, I know that not answering your calls might have been very selfish, but I’m answering your call now.” Helen listens intensely, hears Tommy’s voice rise as he starts to pile question upon question on her. Wonders if Grace might be able to understand what he’s saying, given the scrutinising looks she’s giving Helen. She decides that it might be about time to clear at least one part of the mess her life seems to be. “Look, Tommy - Tommy, please. I know you have every right to be cross with me and you probably have a lot of questions. How about we meet?” Grace’s eyes widen at Helen’s unexpected suggestion. “Yes, in person.” Helen waits for an answer, her gaze firmly kept on her hand that was painting circles and lines on the kitchen table with some tea drops she spilled. “Okay, I’ll be there. Yes, I will - I promise. See you soon, Tommy.” With a sigh she puts down the phone, still curiously unable to look at Grace.</p><p>“So now you’re going to meet him.” Grace’s voice sounds a bit rough, but Helen guesses that hers is rough too, given the time they spent yelling in the garden yesterday.</p><p>“I have to at some point, don’t I?” Helen finally dares to look at Grace’s face, but there’s no emotions to see, no disapproval or appraisal, just a smooth facade hiding any feelings Grace might have about this development.</p><p>“I promise you that I’ll take care of myself. I mean, it’s Tommy. He can be quick-tempered sometimes, but he’d never…” Helen stops speaking, aware of what she was about to say.</p><p>“He’d never hit you,” Grace finishes her sentence in a cool manner, “like Dermot hit me.”</p><p>Helen just sighs, doesn’t know what to say, because they both know that this is the truth. So far, Helen finds herself thinking, immediately shoving that thought as far away as possible, because Tommy never gave her any reason for this kind of doubt.</p><p>“No, he wouldn’t.”</p><p>Grace just nods, looks around the kitchen, then back to the mug in her hand again.</p><p>“I’ll be back soon enough,” Helen offers, unsure about her need to reassure Grace. Grace looks up at her, her gaze inscrutable and Helen feels like she’s being weighted, like their situation is being assessed and she doesn’t know why.</p><p>“I hope you’ll get what you need.” Grace stands up, puts her mug into the sink, stretches her shoulders and gazes out of the window. “It looks like rain, so I’d better get going if I want to finish anything in the garden today.” She smiles at Helen, but doesn’t meet her eyes, vanishes from the kitchen in the direction of the garden, the sounds of things being moved inside the garden shed faintly reaching the kitchen soon after.</p><p>Suddenly Helen feels cold, kind of lost. Takes hold of her mug and rests it against her lips, trying to get as much warmth and comfort from it as possible. Tries to think about what to say to Tommy, what to do about their marriage, their future - <em>her</em> future, until it’s time for her to get ready to leave the house.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She comes back, late in the evening, bone tired and weary. Grace is still in the living room, sitting on the couch, reading a book by the light of a lamp, the rest of the room shrouded in darkness. The next thing Helen notices is that Dermot’s portrait is gone, the place over the fireplaces curiously blank. She leans against the doorframe, unable to stop looking at Grace, her hair gleaming in the low light, shadows playing across her face, her eyes still trained on the book in her hands, slender fingers holding it up. If Helen would have to guess, she’d say that Grace keeps the book in front of her like a kind of shield, a place to hide behind. She carefully knocks on the doorframe, even though she’s sure that Grace has to be aware of her, because when she looks up at the noise, she doesn’t seem surprised. Helen gives her a smile, ignores the apprehensive look in Grace’s eyes, knows that she probably has a dozen questions, but right now she’s almost too tired to think.</p><p>“Did you wait up for me?” Helen steps into the room, sits down on the couch next to Grace’s feet, despite the fact that she feels like she won’t be able to get up again. Grace makes a noncommittal noise, lays the book aside, reaches out to Helen, but stops herself from touching her. Helen lets her head fall against the back pillows, closes her eyes, holds her hand out to Grace at the same time. Lets out a breath she wasn’t aware of holding when she feels their fingers intertwine, feels like Grace does the same. Wonders if she still had been afraid that something would happen to Helen.</p><p>“We broke up, well, I broke up with him,” she says, eyes still closed, body as relaxed as it can be while talking about the end of her marriage. “He asked me to come back, to give us another chance, but I can’t see us working anymore.” Grace squeezes her hand, her thumb drawing small circles along Helen’s wrist.</p><p>“We went round and round, but in the end it’s just not something you can really argue about, is it? Not if I feel like - like I feel. I’m still fond of him, you could even say that I still love him, will always love him. I just don’t want to share my life with him anymore. It’s sad, painful and confusing, but it also is what it is. We had our problems before, always did.” Helen sighs, forces herself to open her eyes, blinks at Grace, who looks at her with sorrowful eyes.</p><p>“I’ll be okay. I should go to bed, hopefully to have a good night’s sleep.” Helen distangles their fingers, gets up from the couch. Without thinking about it, she almost strokes Grace’s face, holding herself back just on time.</p><p>
“You shouldn’t stay up much longer, either. Let’s see what tomorrow brings?”</p><p>“You’re right,” Grace nods at her with a soft smile, “I do feel tired - better go to bed, too.” She stands up, folds the blanket, gathers her things from the table. “We’ll see each other in the morning. Sleep well!”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Tommy is talking to her over the phone, reading her the weather report, but Helen can’t concentrate on him right now, sitting in her car, driving through the dark. She knows that something is wrong, something is going to happen, and when headlights approach in the rearview mirror, she tries to accelerate, instinctively cradles her belly with one hand, more afraid for her child than for herself. Suddenly a loud banging noise rips through the car, all the windows explode at the same time, glittering fragments of glass start flying around her, forming a tornado with her in the middle. It gets larger and larger, engulfs Helen, fills up her car, engulfs the car until she can’t see anything else but the rotating shards of glass around her. The car vanishes and Helen starts spinning around like in a mad kind of funfair ride, is lifted up in the air, dragged higher and higher until every single glass shard vanishes from one second to the next, leaving Helen suspended high up in the air, able to see how tiny the landscape under her already is, wondering for a second what will come next. Then gravity takes hold of her and hurtles her back to the ground and she starts to scream at the top of her lungs.</em>
</p><p>Helen wakes up with a gasp, heart racing, body drenched in sweat. She can hear her name being called, but she is still disoriented, entangled in her duvet, unsure about what’s real and what’s the aftershock of her dream. Slowly the door to her room opens and Grace stands there, her silhouette illuminated by the hallway lights.</p><p>“Helen?” Grace seems unsure about what to do next, doesn’t enter the room, just stands in the doorway. Helen wants to reassure her, tries to apologise for waking her, but all that comes out of her mouth is a small croaking sound. Apparently Grace comes to a decision, slowly passes by Helen’s bed, turns on the small lamp on a table next to the armchair. Warm light fills up the room, chases away the shadows that lingered around, gives Helen enough room to take a shuddering breath. Grace turns around, eyes full of sorrow, steps towards the bed and sits down on the edge, one hand searching for Helen’s, while the other starts to brush at sweaty strands of hair. Helen opens her mouth and lets out a sob, body starting to shake and tears forming.</p><p>“Shhhh,” Grace murmurs, climbing onto the bed, embracing her, hugging her close. “You’re going to be alright. Everything is going to be alright.” Helen feels soothing circles being drawn on her back, feels Grace squeeze her hand, intertwining their fingers. She can’t stop sobbing, deep guttural sounds leaving her as she leans into Grace, tears she somehow held back for months finally breaking free. She can hear Grace talk to her, low, caring words, accompanied by soft touches, but she doesn’t really understand what she’s saying. After a while she starts to feel a bit better, able to stop crying, stop struggling for  breath. Still Grace continues to hold her, caress her. She has started to hum in a low voice, and Helen feels incredibly soothed by this, nestles further into Grace’s body, giving herself more time to calm down again.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>Helen feels like she has to be quite the sight, but somehow Grace doesn’t seem to care, doesn’t seem to mind her robe getting tearstained. She shakes her head, still unable to form words, hears Graces hum, her hand gliding up and down Helen’s back in long soft strokes.</p><p>“Fine by me, don’t worry - you <em>can</em> tell me, but you don’t have to.”</p><p>A shaky breath of relief leaves Helen and suddenly she notices how cold she is, her nightdress sweatily clinging to her body, the duvet equally damp. She sits up a bit, Grace's arm coming up behind her in a supportive manner.</p><p>“Thanks,” she whispers, gaze averted. “I’m sorry I woke you up in the middle of the night.”</p><p>“Helen…” The tone of Grace’s voice makes Helen look up at her face, take in dark eyes full of compassion and sorrow firmly fixed on Helen. Sweaty strands of hair are tucked behind her ears, Grace’s thumb softly brushing along her earlobe, making Helen shudder again.</p><p>“You have to be cold.” Grace must have felt her tremble, clueless about what exactly is causing Helen to shake a bit. She reaches behind Helen, their bodies brushing against each other, starts to wrap the duvet around her until she notices how damp it is and puts it back down with a grimace.</p><p>“No wonder you are trembling. This has got to be changed. You also need fresh clothes, you can’t go back to sleep like this.”</p><p>Helen tugs at the short sleeve of her nightdress, notices how it clings to her body, making her feel disheveled and sticky. She sighs and leans back against Grace, suddenly feeling completely spent. Grace softly tuts at her, hugs her against her body, her hand starting up its slow journey over Helen’s back again.</p><p>“I know you must be very tired, but you can’t stay like this. How about I help you to the bathroom, you get rid of these clothes, take a shower and in the meantime I sort out the bedding and get you something fresh to wear?”</p><p>Helen doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to lose the warmth of Grace’s body next to hers, but she knows that Grace is right and that she won’t be able to get back to sleep like this. Thinks of Grace being woken up in the middle of the night, probably yearning to get back to sleep by now. She untangles herself from Grace and the bedding, gets out of the bed and for a moment the world tilts, making her stumble. Strong, soft hands grab hers, hold her steady, support her.</p><p>“Careful,” Grace murmurs, still holding onto her, while she gets up from the bed. Her arm comes around Helen’s waist and together they slowly make their way to the ensuite. Helen blinks into the harsh bathroom light, catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and groans at the sight. Grace doesn’t seem to take notice, places one of Helen’s hands against the shower stall, practically leaning her against it, giving her a scrutinising look.</p><p>“Can you stand up like this? No nausea, no dizziness?”</p><p>“Yes,” Helen murmurs, voice croaky, throat raw.</p><p>“Don’t fall.” Grace strokes her hair and gives her a fond look before she turns away to start the shower, carefully adjusting the temperature and water pressure while trying not to drench herself. With a satisfied hum she turns back to Helen, but suddenly freezes in front of her, her eyes darting back and forth between Helen and the shower.</p><p>“Umm…” she mumbles, a blush creeping up her cheekbones, “I better leave you to it now,” and before Helen can even react, Grace has left the room. Helen gives a sigh and leans her head against the shower stall. She can feel the steam of the running water fill up the room, can feel the warmth reach her, becomes even more aware of how cold and tired she is. She slowly lifts the nightdress above her head, lets it fall to the floor and steps into the shower. The first spray of the water that hits her makes her gasp out loud and she can hear steps in front of the bathroom door, Grace’s voice coming through it, asking her if she’s alright.</p><p>“I’m fine,” she answers, still not back to her normal voice though, still tired beyond belief. Nevertheless she enjoys the shower, stands there, leaning against the tiled wall, water running over her body, dragging away the sweat and remnants of her nightmare. After a while she musters up the energy to shampoo her hair and soap up her body, turns off the water after thoroughly rinsing herself off. She steps out of the shower, her eyes falling towards her sweaty nightdress. There’s no way she will put it on again now, might even burn it after tonight, so she dries herself off and just tugs the towel around her body before she steps back into the bedroom.</p><p>Grace is sitting on the edge of the bed, obviously waiting for her, the bed freshly made, a bundle of clothes next to her, her hand resting on top of it. She seems lost in thought, her fingers absentmindedly rubbing the fabric of what must be a pair of Helen’s pyjamas, but she looks up the moment Helen closes the door to the ensuite. Her eyes widen and she hastily averts her gaze, her hair hiding most of her face. Helen scolds herself for stepping into the room like this without a warning, obviously having surprised Grace, who seems uncomfortable being confronted with Helen wearing nothing more than a towel. Which Helen should have expected, because while they have been living together for weeks now, it’s not like they are used to sharing their bath and bedrooms, keeping these parts of their lives separated from each other.</p><p>Realising that she can’t just keep standing there, Helen steps towards the bed, reaches out for her nightwear the same moment Grace picks it up and rises off the bed to give it to Helen. Their fingers brush against each other and Helen is sure that she can feel sparks sizzling over her skin where they touch.</p><p>“I didn’t know if I should bring-”</p><p>“Thanks for all your help, I-”</p><p>They both smile at each other, both taking a small step back, to give each other some space. Helen feels like she is tapped into a low power current, feels her pulse quicken and her body flush. Takes hold of the clothes and turns back towards the bathroom, one hand gripping the edge of the towel to hold it in place. She turns to Grace before she steps back into the bathroom, sees her still standing next to the bed, seemingly frozen, her eyes fixed on Helen.</p><p>“I’m going to…” Helen just gestures with the clothes she’s holding. Grace nods, looks from Helen towards the bedroom door, before she steps towards it, apparently intending to leave her for the rest of the night. Helen swallows hard at the thought of being alone again, anxiety rising up inside her body, making her take a risk.</p><p>“Grace?” she asks, voice still a bit weak. “Would you stay - please? For a while at least?” Grace looks back at her, posture softening, already taking the steps back to the bed, ready to sit down again.</p><p>“Of course,” she just says.</p><p>It doesn’t take long for Helen to change into the pyjamas Grace chose for her, although she takes a bit more time than needed to try and calm down her racing heart. She feels nervous nevertheless, coming back to the bedroom, somehow equally worried about Grace having left and Grace still being there, but of course she’s still there, once again sitting on the edge of the bed.</p><p>Helen gives her a relieved smile, walks up to the bed, sits down next to Grace.</p><p>“Thanks,” she whispers, reluctant to speak any louder, carefully nudging Grace with her shoulder, her hand reaching out for Grace’s hand.</p><p>“Always,” Grace whispers back, presses their fingers together, while giving Helen a shy smile. They sit there for a while, both lost in their thoughts, until Helen gives a wide yawn, immediately apologizing.</p><p>“You should go back to sleep.” Grace reaches behind Helen, throws back the duvet a bit, makes some space for Helen to lie down. “You must be tired and I should let you get some rest now.”</p><p>Helen knows she’s right, but she doesn’t want to be alone right now, wants to hold on to being next to Grace like this, who is noticing her hesitancy, giving her a searching look.</p><p>“You are feeling better, aren’t you?” Two fingers carefully lift Helen’s chin up, dark eyes searching her face. Helen almost says that she’s never felt better than with Grace right next to her, but keeps that thought to herself, as well as the thought of how Grace might taste if she kissed her.</p><p>“Could you… would you mind-” her courage leaves her and she breaks off her question before actually asking it, but Grace just patiently waits for her to continue and with a deep breath, Helen starts again.</p><p>“Could you stay? Here, for the night? I know it’s a bit much to ask, but I really don’t want to be alone right now and this way we might both get some more sleep.” Something unfathomable flickers over Grace’s face, but then she just nods, her hand caressing over Helen’s shoulder before she gets up from the bed.</p><p>“Let me just -” she nods towards the bathroom, leaves Helen lying in bed, trying her best to calm down her nerves while listening to soft cluttering noises and sounds of running water coming from the other room.</p><p>When Grace comes back, she has taken off her robe, exposing the soft, low cut blue pyjamas she’s wearing. Helen’s heart skips a beat and for a moment it seems to her like Grace is as nervous about this as Helen is, but then Grace turns off the light and gets into bed next to her as if they spent all their nights together like this.</p><p>Moonlight falls softly into the room while they lie there, facing each other. Helen tries to stifle another yawn but fails to do so, hears Grace soft murmurs in response. Grace’s hand comes up from under the duvet and her fingers carefully brush through Helen’s hair, making her feel safe and cared for. Helen hums in response, her eyes already falling shut, sleep almost upon her, a murmured “Sleep, darling,” the last thing she hears, accompanied by soft lips kissing her forehead, but she might well have imagined it.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks again @wonko for editing this - your help is very much appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we are, who would have thought. I really loved writing this, gifting this to you @ktlsyrtis, thinking about the two of them, reading and answering (if a bit late) all your wonderful comments. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.</p><p>Thanks at Wonko for betaing this!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em></em>
Kh'hob keynmol nisht gelebt mit aza tsnue.<br/>
     I never lived with such a treasure of a woman.<br/>
</p><p>(Daniel Kahn -  Haleluye)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>By the time Helen gradually starts to wake up, she feels surprisingly well rested, comfortable and warm. Warm probably because she finds herself burrowed into Grace’s body. They are lying face to face with each other, legs brushing, one arm slung over the waist of the other, with Helen being tucked slightly unter Grace’s chin. Which brings her perilously close to Grace’s breasts, a fact she notices right after she opens her eyes. The sharp inhale she takes fills her with a scent that’s purely Grace, making her groan, close her eyes and take another deep breath. Her head starts swimming, her heart races, she feels like she’s completely surrounded by Grace, like she finally is where she wants to be, until Grace softly murmurs in her sleep.</p><p>For a moment Helen doesn’t know what to do, worries what might happen if Grace wakes up, fears that she would recoil from her, leave the bed and at the end - ultimately leave Helen. She tries to calm herself down, waits until her heart stops racing and carefully extracts herself from Grace’s arm. Hears a low sigh as if in protest, but fortunately Grace doesn’t wake up, just turns a bit in bed, maybe following the lost warmth of Helen’s body. Helen sits down on the edge of the bed, watches Grace, her blonde hair in absolute disarray, her face carefree and relaxed in a way she has never seen it before. She wants to press a kiss to Grace’s lips, wants to lie back down in her arms, wants to spend the whole morning in bed with Grace.</p><p>Not that she ever spent a night or a morning in bed with another woman. This is new for Helen, quite unexpected, well, very unexpected. She would never have imagined herself pining for another woman. Normally men would pine for her, and before Tommy, before his insistent courtship, she would sometimes take them up on their offer, always sure to leave them before things got too complicated. Once or twice there had been women interested in Helen, but so far she had always declined, not embarrassed or anything like that, just not interested. Yet here she is, sitting in bed, watching another woman sleep, while fantasising about how her kisses would taste, how her skin would feel under her fingertips.</p><p>She absentmindedly brushes at a curl that had fallen into Grace’s face, rubs the soft strand between her fingers. Suddenly she becomes aware of what she’s doing, of how violated Grace might feel if she knew. She practically leaps up from the bed, takes a step away from it, presses her back against the wall, as if to hold herself back. Grace must have felt the shift of the mattress and wakes up, her hand searching along the bed, before she opens up her eyes. Helen imagines that she can see disappointment in Grace’s eyes when she realises that she’s alone, only for relief to take its place when she spots Helen leaning against the wall.</p><p>“Morning,” she says, her voice still coloured by sleep, “why are you standing there?”</p><p>“I just woke up, thought I might make us some coffee?” Suddenly self conscious, Helen goes and grabs her robe, puts it on, instantly feels a bit better prepared to have a conversation with Grace. For a moment she just stands there, Grace lying in bed before her, giving her a kind of soft smile like she never has before, almost like she might ask her to come back to bed the next minute, a ridiculous thought for which Helen instantly chides herself.</p><p>“I’ll see you in the kitchen,” she says, practically fleeing her own room.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Grace looks at Helen over the rim of her coffee mug when they are back sitting at the kitchen table, “do you want to tell me about your dream last night?”</p><p>Helen grimaces, a lump in her throat at the thought of yesterday’s nightmare.</p><p>“You don’t have to, of course.”</p><p>“I dreamt about the car crash, but not really about the car crash - more like a mad version of it.” Grace hums at that, her eyes searching Helen’s face. “Tommy was on the phone with me, another car crashed into me, I remember that I thought about protecting the baby, but then I was flying up to the sky, unable to do anything until I found myself falling back to earth. I screamed and that was when I must have woken up.”</p><p>“Seeing Tommy might have triggered that.” This time it is Grace who lays her hand on the table and Helen who intertwines their fingers.</p><p>“We spoke about the accident, about the baby. He thinks it’s the reason I want to leave him, feels like I might change my mind once I’m… over it. It’s more though, it’s not the only thing. We were always complicated, often rubbing each other up the wrong way. In some ways we are very much alike and in others we couldn’t be more different. At the end I felt like the differences became too much. I still love him, you know.”</p><p>Grace just nods, seems to understand - should understand how complicated love can be.</p><p>“I still don’t want to be with him anymore, don’t want to stay married to him. Asked him for a divorce and at the end he agreed.” Helen sighs, takes a grocery recipe lying beside her and starts to shred it to pieces. “Now I just have to figure out what to do with my life. I don’t want to go back to work, don't want to work with Tommy, although he told me not to be childish. I feel like I need more space than that.” Grace makes a face at Tommy’s words, but doesn’t comment on them.</p><p>“You told me that you liked teaching. You could try and find a position at the academy or one of the colleges that offer forensic psychology courses? Set up as a private consultant, that way you could handpick your cases, so you wouldn’t have to work with Thomas. There’s a lot of things you could do, Helen. You don’t have to figure it out next week.”</p><p>Helen smiles at Grace, thankful for her support, already feeling a bit better,</p><p>“You know that you can stay here as long as you want to.” Grace is inspecting a flaw in her mug, her hair falling into her face, something Helen is a bit thankful for, because the thought of staying here, staying with Grace makes her smile even wider, makes her heart beat a bit faster.</p><p> </p><p>Time goes by, both of them in no real hurry to change things, both of them lucky enough to be financially able to not rely on work. Grace is quite happy to spend her time gardening and cooking, Helen feels content with just being around Grace and giving the idea of becoming an independent consultant a bit more thought. She talks to former colleagues and friends, glad that most of them are making use of their good old British reserve and don’t ask her about Tommy.</p><p>The next time Grace mentions changing things around the house, she asks Helen what she thinks about redecorating Grace’s bedroom. Helen hasn’t been inside her room yet, caught some glances while walking by when the door was open or when they said good night to each other in front of it.</p><p>“It certainly seems to be a bit dark,” she says, “a change sounds like a good decision.”</p><p>“I’d like to buy some new furniture, paint the walls. Definitely something lighter, give the room a bit more air.” Grace looks at Helen, a smile on her lips. “What do you think about going shopping with me?” Helen smiles back, certain that she would do almost anything with Grace by her side.</p><p>“I’m delighted as long as we aren’t going to IKEA on a Saturday,” she answers, perfectly aware that Grace sure wasn’t planning to do that, her joke being rewarded with Grace’s laughter ringing round the room in response.</p><p> </p><p>The furniture shops they go to definitely aren't IKEA. Grace seems happy to be able to make her own decisions, but nevertheless asks Helen for her opinion on wardrobes, bedside tables and beds. They end up lying side by side on beds so often that after a while Helen finds herself automatically lying down next to Grace. Finally Grace turns to her with a wide grin, both of them lying on firm, but not hard mattress, resting in a pale wooden bedframe with a padded headboard.</p><p>“This one,” she says and for a moment Helen imagines what it would be like to wake up in this bed, next to Grace, and she sighs contentedly and nods in approval. The shop clerk who finalizes the sale with Grace smiles brightly at them and tells them how good it is that they found something they both like. They both blush a bit at the thought of the younger woman thinking of them as a couple, but they don’t contradict the assumption - better to save them all additional blushes. They leave the store chuckling a bit after they notice the rainbow coloured keychain the woman uses at work, but don’t make any additional mention of it. After a visit to B&amp;Q they come back to the house heavily laden with paints, varnish, rollers and dozens of other things they thought they might need. It takes them three tours to the car and back to unload everything and at the end they just stand there, staring at all the stuff they’ve amassed and break out in helpless laughter.</p><p>“That’s it. We have to do this now,” Helen pants, “there’s no way back. You spent a fortune on this. Might have been cheaper to pay a professional.”</p><p>“Might have been,” Grace laughs at her, “but it wouldn’t be half the fun we’ll have doing this together.”</p><p>“Pity, but our ideas of fun in a bedroom seem to be wildly different, dear,” Helen responds without thinking, making Grace laugh and cough at the same time, her face bright red from her attempt to get her breathing back under control.</p><p> </p><p>Despite her inexperience with painting a wall or building a wardrobe, Helen actually looks forward to redecorating Grace’s bedroom with her. They start off by dismantling the old furniture and storing it in the garage until charity is able to pick them up next week. Then they set up everything to start painting the room, Helen doing her best to paint the walls while Grace does the more detailed work that needs to be done.</p><p>They work in amicable silence for a while, the swishing of the rolling brush almost meditative.</p><p>“How did you realise you were in love with Tessa?” Helen astonishes herself by asking this question. Grace looks up from where she’s sat on the floor, carefully painting the skirting boards.</p><p>“Was I?” she answers, a contemplative look on her face. “I don’t know.”</p><p>“Had you ever considered having a relationship with a woman before?”</p><p>“No, I hadn’t. It’s not something I ever thought about.” Grace goes back to painting, scrutinises  her work. “Although,” she begins, but then stops.</p><p>“Although?”</p><p>“There was this girl at college. In hindsight I’d say that I had a crush on her.” Grace smiles, chuckles softly. “Of course then I was swept off my feet by my professor and I forgot all about her.” She sighs, pauses her work, closes her eyes for a moment, before she looks up at Helen.</p><p>“How about you?”</p><p>Helen hopes that Grace can’t see her blush from where she’s sitting, makes a sound that should convey amusement, but only sounds nervous in her ears.</p><p>“What - you never had a crush on a woman? Dyed in the wool heterosexual, straight as an arrow? Add a cliché of your own, if you want to.” Grace gestures with the paintbrush in hand, splatters a fat drop of varnish on her left arm and groans in response. Helen just stands there, looking at her, taking in the sight of her, her hair, arms, the paint splattered shirt Grace is wearing. Helen’s heart beats unusually fast, heat rushes along her body, she becomes almost painfully aware of Grace, of all the different things that are Grace and suddenly she has to sit down on the floor or otherwise she might just fall over.</p><p>“Helen?” Grace sounds alarmed, drops the paintbrush and crawls over to her. Kneels beside her, touches her shoulder and her leg. Helen can smell her perfume, can feel the heat of Grace’s body next to her, can see her lips move and within a moment she lays her hand on Grace’s neck, pulls her closer with every intention to kiss her, but instead she unintentionally topples her off balance and Grace tumbles to her side, practically falling across Helen’s lap with a short shriek, followed by a surprised laugh.</p><p>“What are you doing?” She asks after she rights herself again, giving Helen a fond look while shaking her head, still chuckling. Helen just stares at her, eyes wide, suddenly scared by her own boldness, feeling sad and relieved at the same time that she didn’t manage to go through with the kiss.</p><p>“Helen, are you alright?” Confusion takes over on Grace’s face, she stops laughing and cradles Helen’s face in one hand as if to anchor her. Still shocked by herself, Helen tenses under Grace’s touch, inadvertently flinches away a bit, almost unnoticeable, but of course Grace does notice and pulls her hand away as if burned. The atmosphere around them changes to something complicated, certainly different than minutes before, the easiness in their togetherness gone and replaced by a brooding kind of awkwardness. They disentangle themselves in silence, get up from the floor, stand there, seemingly unsure how to proceed. A small smile from Helen to Grace is met with downcast eyes, a helpless gesture at the paintbrush lying on the floor and a mumbled, “I’d better get back to this,” in Helen’s direction. They both turn back to their work, the tension slowly dissipating again, although another kind of silence falls over the room, with both of them lost in their own thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>They make good time despite the change of mood and before the last light of the day vanishes, they step back towards the middle of the room, regarding everything they did.</p><p>“It looks so different.” Grace’s lips curve up a bit, her expression a mixture of relief and wonder. She turns towards Helen, who’s happy to see her like this, to be able to help Grace with the small but meaningful changes around the house.</p><p>“It certainly does,” she nods in assent.</p><p>“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Grace says, taking Helen’s hand and giving it a careful squeeze, her eyes full of affection. Helen feels like a liar, like she’s using their friendship for her own silent agenda that Grace is unaware of. She swallows and tries to crack a smile, hopes that she doesn’t look too strained in doing so.</p><p>“You would have managed just fine,” she mumbles, pretty sure that this is the truth. Before Grace can object, Helen pulls her hand away and rubs her face.</p><p>“I’m feeling a bit tired - maybe I should go, take a shower, lie down a bit.”</p><p>Grace watches her carefully, small lines of worry appearing on her face, but then she  just nods and pats Helen’s shoulder.</p><p>“You certainly did enough for today. Go and relax for a while. I’ll take a shower and sort out dinner after that.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Helen whispers, turns around and almost bolts to her room. Closes the door behind herself and sinks down onto the floor, back leaning against the wall, eyes closed, a pained look on her face.</p><p>“You stupid, stupid idiot,” she says, lightly knocking her head against the wall, “you stupid, stupid idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>A few hours later Helen comes back to the kitchen. The familiar feeling of walking into this room to find Grace standing in front of the hob or at the counter, preparing a meal, making herself a cup of tea or just standing there, watching some birds in the garden, makes it almost difficult to breathe, difficult to stand by the decision Helen made after having a shower and thinking hard about what to do.</p><p>Grace turns around, the smile on her face falling after she seems to fully notice Helen’s subdued mood. She turns the hob off and fully faces Helen, arms crossed in front of her like she instinctively has to brace herself against what Helen might say.</p><p>Helen sits down, looks back from Grace over the table, to the floor, back to the table, heart racing, a sense of dread washing over her. She tries not to look at Grace, fears that she might reconsider, scrap her plan, because deep in her heart she knows she doesn’t really believe in what she’s about to say.</p><p>“I think I should move out. I’ve been your guest for months now, it was incredibly kind of you to let me stay this long.” Helen swallows, her throat suddenly rough and constricted. Grace's eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn’t say a word, just leans against the kitchen counter, waiting for Helen to go on.</p><p>“I can’t hide away from life forever. Tommy practically accused me of that and maybe he’s right?”</p><p>A raised eyebrow is the only reaction to that, which could have been worse, Helen guesses. She can’t really blame Grace for not liking Tommy, given all that happened since she first met him. Suddenly Grace speaks up, her voice low, a tinge of frustration coming through.</p><p>“Do <em>you</em> feel like you’re hiding away from life? Or is it just Tommy telling you that, probably because you no longer want to be part of his life?”</p><p>Helen pulls at the sleeve of her jumper, unsure how to answer this. Of course she doesn’t feel like this, of course Tommy or anything Tommy said isn’t the reason she feels like she has to leave. After what almost happened earlier, she can’t just stay and wait for it to happen again, can’t risk her friendship with Grace, can’t risk losing Grace’s trust. Too many people did harm to her already and Helen plainly refuses to become one of them, even if she has to break her own heart.</p><p>“You don’t owe him anything, Helen.” Grace’s eyes bore into hers and Helen suddenly feels trapped in her own feelings like in a too tight second skin. She clears her throat, suddenly feeling parched, takes the glass of water next to her and drinks it down.</p><p>“I know,” she whispers, “believe me I know.” She looks back up at Grace, feels like she’s already hurting her, unsure if what she is planning to do will make things better or worse.</p><p>“I still have to go.” Helen sets the glass back down on the table, the noise of glass on wood ringing through the kitchen as if amplified. She gets up from the kitchen chair, her body moving like she suddenly weighs ten tons. She wants to step up to Grace, take her in her arms, tell her how much she loves her, how she’d like to stay with her forever, but her mind is made up and instead she just gives Grace an apologetic look and leaves the kitchen to go to her room.</p><p> </p><p>Helen stares at the heaps of clothes strewn across the room, contemplates the open suitcases on the floor next to her bed. She was never the most organised person but somehow she finds herself unable to decide on even the smallest thing. Folds, unfolds and refolds a blouse, places some trousers and a pair of shoes in one suitcase, only to remove the shoes again. She sighs, sits down on the bed, picks up a scarf, lets it glide through her fingers. There’s a knock on her half open door, she can hear Grace saying her name, feels nervous, but tells Grace to come in. For a moment they just stare at each other, both apparently unsure of how to proceed. Grace’s eyes fly across the room, taking in the clothes, shoes, suitcases and, at last, Helen sitting on the bed, still holding the scarf like a lifeline.</p><p>“I don’t want you to go.” Grace’s voice is rough. Her fingers grip at the door frame as if she needs help to keep herself upright. Helen doesn’t know what to say, feels torn between what she wants and what she thinks might be best, best for Grace at least.</p><p>“You know what the worst thing about Tessa was? Not that she actually killed Dermot, well that was bad of course, but after a while I just felt relieved by him being gone. No, the worst thing was that she made a decision for me. About my life. Without talking to me. And you know, I somehow feel like you are about to do the same right now. Of course not really the same, you can’t exactly kill Dermot a second time, but…” Grace looks at her imploringly.</p><p>“I would like to, you know.” Helen mumbles under her breath.</p><p>“What would you like to?” Apparently Grace had heard her, so Helen repeats herself with a sigh.</p><p>“I would kill him again if I had the chance and could get away with it.” She stares at Grace, willing her to react, but she just stands there looking at her, her face unreadable. “I think about throttling him quite often, you see. He hurt you. He hurt <em>you</em>! You’re the most precious woman I ever met, you are the friend I never knew I wanted. You’re kind, compassionate, thoughtful, and <em>he hit you</em>. I don’t know what was going on with him, frankly I don’t care, but he was a deeply disturbed human being that shouldn’t have been allowed near you or any other woman. I can’t imagine what you have gone through and I’m proud of you, so proud of you and I don’t want to risk losing you just because…” Helen stops speaking, still intends on quietly leaving, still hopeful that she’ll be able to keep being friends with Grace if their lives are a bit more separated.</p><p>“Losing me because of what, Helen? Why would you think you’ll lose me?” Grace frowns at her, takes a step towards her, but sways back again without touching her. Which makes Helen realise how much they’ve been touching each other during the last weeks, how attuned to each other they are. All the light touches of hands on arms, shoulders, backs, all the brushing of fingers through strands of hair, all the hand holding and soothing back rubs and suddenly she feels a bit foolish, like she missed the forest for the trees. She looks up at Grace, sees the worry in her face, but also something she thinks might be mirrored on her own face and with this she feels brave enough to finish her sentence.</p><p>“Because I’m in love with you.” Her voice doesn’t waver and she keeps looking at Grace, who stares at her for what might be the longest minute in Helen’s whole life, but then a smile lights up Grace’s face and she can see her lean against the doorframe.</p><p>“You’re in love with me,” Grace repeats, her voice full of wonder. Helen nods, her fingers picking at the scarf again.</p><p>“And this is why you want to leave me.” Hurt replaces the wonder, Grace’s brows furrow, frown lines appearing on her face.</p><p>“No!” Helen gets up and steps towards her, the scarf falling to the floor. Grace doesn’t flinch, which is a sure sign of how far they’ve come, how safe they feel with each other.</p><p>“No, of course not,” Helen sighs and carefully offers her hand to Grace. “I was afraid to ruin our friendship, afraid to put too much pressure on you, on us, should I ever decide to tell you. I’ve never been more than friends with another woman, and you know that I’ve not even been much of a friend with one - before I met you. You’re the first woman I ever wanted to befriend, wanted to open up to and here I go and fall in love with you. You deserve all the happiness you can get, Grace, and I’m not sure that I’m the right person for that. I thought that if I move out, if I give us a bit more space, we could still be friends without me ruining everything.”</p><p>Grace had intertwined their fingers during Helen’s speech and she feels her hand being squeezed. Helen tries to catch her eye, but Grace listens to her while keeping her eyes on their hands.</p><p>“I think you’re quite wrong.” Finally she does look up and the look in her eyes takes Helen’s breath away. “I don’t want happiness without you. I don’t want you to go. Fair enough to say that I haven’t had the best experiences with love, you know, but how could it help if I swear off love just because of that? How would it help if I’d shy away from hearing you say that you love me and saying it back to you?” Helen feels herself being pulled towards Grace, feels Grace’s hand come up and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, their eyes still locked.</p><p>“Because that’s how it is, you know - I’m as much in love with you as you are in love with me and I want to be happy, I want you to be happy - I want us to be happy, I want you to stay and-” Helen can’t stop herself any longer, surges forward and presses their lips together. A sigh leaves Grace and then she’s kissing her back, her lips soft on Helen’s, her hand combing through Helen’s curls, while her other hand is tugging them together. An almost burning sensation rushes through Helen’s body, making her feel aware of their bodies touching, making her moan into their kiss. Helen feels like she might just burst into pieces, might fall down to the floor if Grace wasn’t holding her, weeks of pent up longing being poured into their kiss. After a while they have to come up for air though, both of them breathing hard, standing there in the doorframe, foreheads touching, fingers combing through hair, arms tugging them together.</p><p>“Tell me that you’ll stay,” Grace whispers and Helen can feel her heart speed up at the thought of staying. “I mean,” Grace continues, her voice suddenly a bit wobbly, “I won’t keep you against your will of course. You are free to do whatever you want to.” Helen leans back to look at Grace’s face, her eyes dark and full of emotion, her lips well kissed, hair even more in disarray than usual.</p><p>“Then I’ll stay,” she says, trying to convey the earnestness of her decision, of her want, in these few words and it seems like she succeeds, because Grace gives her a look of pure joy before she kisses her again, a bit less delicately this time and after a while they stumble from their place in the doorframe to the bed behind Helen, the clothes lying on the bed not the only ones carelessly landing on the floor. </p><p> </p><p>By the time Helen gradually starts to wake up, she feels surprisingly well rested, comfortable and warm, even though her body is aching a bit. She’s once again burrowed into Grace’s side, a leg slung over one of Grace’s, her arm lying on Grace’s stomach, hand resting perilously close to one of her breasts. It is as if she’s trying to touch as much of Grace as she can, even in her sleep. She certainly tried while they were still awake, a thought that makes blood rush to Helen’s face, makes her squirm a bit in Grace’s arms. Sex with Grace had certainly been a whole new experience, a bit awkward at first, but more than satisfactory by the end and she can’t wait to do some more empirical research on her newly found sapphic interest. For now though, she’s calming down again, content to lie next to Grace as long as it takes her to wake up.</p><p>Helen suddenly feels as if everything has fallen into place, like this is where she was always meant to be, here in this house, here with Grace at her side, both of them having arrived at this point in their lives by difficult and painful journeys not yet completed, but with a happy ending in sight for both of them, together. She looks at Grace, peacefully sleeping beside her, softly brushes one of her curls aside, marveling again at the softness of Grace’s hair.</p><p>Grace sighs and opens her eyes, a slow smile spreading across her face upon seeing Helen nestled up next to her and Helen smiles back at Grace and bends over to kiss her like she plans to kiss her every morning from now on.</p>
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